The Art Of Staying Young
by Eathelynn
Summary: 9 years ago, Wendy Darling made a promise to never forget Peter Pan. Now, successful in her Art career, she meets a stranger at the masque and is strangely attracted to him. He invokes the same feelings she thought she felt so long ago back when she was a child. Did Wendy ever really grow up? Characters go to their appropriate owners. based on the 2003 film with Jeremy Sumpter
1. Chapter 1

_Wendy_

The doorbell rings again and I sigh in my head. On my face, however, I wear a dazzling smile - one to rival my mother's, or so I'm told. The fabric of my ball gown rustles as I go to greet the guests. Over 60 people are arriving to Mother and Father's mansion for a masquerade ball in honor of my latest art show. Though, my parents hate the paintings I make - especially Father.

"Mr. Jenkins, what a pleasure it is to see you again." I move to let in the average looking man. He has average brown hair and average green eyes on his average looking face. Mother invited him in hopes of me letting him court me, but he's far too stiff and serious for my tastes. "It is positively delightful that you were able to attend this evening."

Mr. Jenkins grasps my hand and bows over it slightly, giving a kiss to the back of my hand. The kiss lingered a little too long for my liking, but Mother has engrained in me the ways a lady is to behave so I allowed him his affections before closing the door.

"The pleasure is by all means mine, my dear, dear lady," Mr. Jenkins gushes in his boring, stale tone.

I'm saved by the doorbell chiming again. I give Mr. Jenkins a brittle smile. "Well, do make your way to the ballroom. I have to welcome more guests, so please excuse me."

Mr. Jenkins frowns a bit before nodding and heading the way I pointed. I would let out a breath of pure relief, but this blasted corset is prohibiting me from doing so. What I wouldn't give to be a child again...

Swinging the door open, I glance over the next guest. Most people have their masks on when I answer the door, so it doesn't surprise me when the gentleman before me has his face hidden behind a half-Indian mask.

I step back to allow him in and remember I'm not wearing my smile anymore. Bloody balls and their socializing. I attach a smile to my face even though I'm pretty sure it isn't very convincing. "Good evening, sir, it's such a delight that you are able to attend on such a fine night." He flashes me a smile and a foreign fluttering spreads through my stomach. Well, not exactly foreign, but it is a feeling I haven't felt in almost 9 years... I clear my throat, realizing that I've been silent a little too long. "Pardon me, but I do not believe I recognize you. I adore your mask, by the way," I add honestly.

The gentleman flashes me another smile that causes me to go weak in the knees this time. "Why thank you, kind madam. Is it not the point of a masque to be someone other than yourself for the evening?"

A blush feathers across my cheeks and I desperately hope he does not notice. "Well, I suppose you are right." I'm feeling suddenly bashful towards this man - and I do not usually feel bashful towards anyone. How odd. "Well, dear stranger, might I - " The doorbell rings again and I inwardly damn it. I give the masked gentleman a sad, apologetic smile. "I apologize, but I must get the door. Please, go ahead to the ballroom, just that way." I turn to answer the door yet again, but my delicate hand is suddenly encased in a strong, larger one as the gentleman pulls me gently back.

"I will accept your apology and excuse you to answer the door on one condition," he states, his clover-green eyes sparkling with mischief.

"And what condition would that be, sir?" I ask, my voice quivering slightly.

He bows slightly and bestows a soft kiss to my hand. I find myself wishing his kiss had lingered like Mr. Jenkins' did. "You must honor me with a dance later, for i wish to dance with a beautiful maiden in the hope that I can find out why she looked so distraught answering the door."

My face flushes again and the doorbell rings, twice this time. I fear I will somehow make this moment inferior if I were to speak, so I give him a nod. His breath-taking smile slowly envelopes the half of his face that I can see as he releases my hand. He gives me a wink before sauntering off in the direction of the party.

I take a small breath and this time a true smile breaks across my face as I accept the newest- and thankfully the last - guests to arrive.

Heading to the parlor where several other ladies are waiting, my feet are already throbbing. Bloody heels. I'm half-tempted to just take them off; it's not like anyone could see my feet underneath this atrocious tent. I take that back - my gown is anything but atrocious. It's actually rather spectacular in an ocean color scheme. The neckline goes lower than I'm comfortable with, but I love the flowing sleeves. It matches my latest painting.

The women in the parlor all give me envious looks, which I ignore. Look at them all - dressed to bait a few suitors, no doubt. Inwardly, I sigh. Mother applied my make-up in hopes that a gentleman could overlook my personality just because he took a fancy to my face. The mirror in the room assists me as I wipe off most of the caked on substances and check my hair. I prefer the natural look, another thing Mother despises about my decisions. My chocolate locks hang to my hips in curls with two combs made of shells holding my hair away from my face and just behind and above my ears. Small pearls and tiny sea-shells are pinned and braided randomly through my hair. I like it - but the make-up was just too much. I did leave my eye shadow because it matches my gown and brings out my grey eyes.

When I can look at my face - now with minimal make-up - and recognize myself, I head out of the tiny lounge room full of ladies fixing themselves up with last-minute touches and adorn my mask. I love my mask; I made it myself. It stops at the tip of my nose, covering only the top half of my face. It's a swirl of blues with a light shading of lilac swirling, accompanied with a light dusting of grey. Pearls and sequins outline the frame and around the holes for my eyes. Lace in ocean colors hangs from the sides at the corners of my eyes so that it falls with my hair and frames my face; I look like a goddess of the sea.

At the door of the ballroom, the attendant (and my parents' butler) is calling the room to attention for my grand entrance. I loathe this part, but I have learned to live with it. Every time I hold a successful art gallery, Mother and Father hold some type of party or banquet. They do not do it because they are proud of me - on the contrary. They only do it because they like to be in the spotlight and keep up appearances. Any reason to throw a party-of-the-year and they take it. It has also become an occurrence in which they try to shove suitors on me.

The orchestra stops playing their music and the partiers, all masked, come to a stop. 60 or so people stare at the top of the grand staircase as I gracefully walk to the top step. Mother and Father stand just at the base of the stairs, putting on their little show and looking proud.

"Ladies and gentleman, you are all honored guests on this fine evening. Your hosts, the highly esteemed Mr. and Mrs. Darling, would like to thank you ever so much for joining them on such a wondrous occasion. May your night be merry and hold much joy. Without further adieu, I would like to present to you our lady of the night to which we are celebrating another glorious achievement in the arts; the lovely, Miss Wendy Darling."

Applause spreads through the room as I makes my way carefully down the staircase. My face feels hot and I know I'm as red as a ripe tomato. My eyes glance through the room as I try to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man in the Indian mask, but I only succeed in seeing Mother's angry glare as she notices that I've gotten rid of most of the face paint she bestowed upon me.

The room quiets back down as I reach the bottom. Mother and Father both pantomime a kiss to each of my cheeks and I give a shy smile to the large audience. Clearing my throat, I say what is expected of me. "Thank you ever so much for being here tonight. I do hope you enjoy the paintings; you may see them again in the gallery room. Please, enjoy yourselves this evening, and thank you again."

Everyone claps again and I smile. Inside I'm throwing a fit, because now I have to spend the rest of the night mingling. The orchestra starts back up with a waltz and couples head towards the dance floor. I spot my brother, John, walk out with his wife, Lucy, to dance. On the other side of the room my other brother, Michael, is flirting with a flock of young ladies. I shake my head and smile fondly.

The string of people wanting to speak with me stops for a moment and my eyes glance around again in search of the Indian-masked man. I wish I knew his name... Oh, no. I turn around and head towards a smaller, secretive staircase when I notice Mr. Jenkins making his way towards me. I am most positive that he wishes to dance with me, but I am entirely not interested. The servants staircase leads to the main floor of the house and I hear giggling from one of the rooms. When some of the guests can't leave their children at home, for whatever reason, they stay here with my brother John's children and their nanny, Martha.

I walk into the large nursery and smile as the children are sitting in a circle and interrupting Martha repeatedly as she tries to tell a story. Mary, my brother's oldest, runs to me as soon as she sees me.

"Auntie Wendy!" She squeals, jumping into my arms. Mary, named after my mother, is only 4 years but she's intellegent for her age. "Is that really you, Auntie Wendy, is it?"

"Why of course it is, Mary!" I laugh, kissing her forehead and taking off my mask. My niece smiles and kisses me back on my cheek. I set her down and grab her hand, pulling her back to Martha's chair.

Martha looks at me with pleading eyes. "Miss Wendy, would you mind telling the children a story? They all prefer it when you do."

The seven children in the room all chorus in agreement. I smile at them, especially Mary and her younger brother, John, Jr. He's only a year and a quarter younger than her and Lucy is expecting another, although she isn't showing yet. The rest of the children are children of a few guests for the ball.

"Well, what story shall I tell?" I ask, sitting in the seat Martha got up from. Little John climbs into my lap and I place a kiss to his temple and brush his fine hair with my fingers.

Mary speaks up since none of the other children do. "Auntie Wendy, can we hear the one about the flying boy? The one where he and his friends saved his fairy on that icky man's boat?"

I smile. Mary loves to hear my stories about Peter and the Lost Boys. An ache in my heart suddenly spikes as I think about them. I try not to, since it's been so long. Sometimes I am almost certain that I dreamed all about Peter and Tinkerbell, Neverland and all in it.

John tugs on a lock of my hair to get my attention. "Believe in fairies?"

A laugh escapes as all the children chorus it again. "Alright, alright. I'll tell you about the time when the horrid Captain Hook almost beat the brave and amazing Peter Pan..."

_Peter_

"Can you say it with me? I do believe in fairies, I do. I do." Her soothing voice wafts out of the nursery full of little children, none older than 7. The little tikes all say it with her, squealing in laughter as she tells the story.

Wendy. Wendy Moira Angela Darling. I had my doubts that the young beauty that answered the door was her, but all doubts have been wiped from my mind. To make things better, she even remembers everything. She remembers... me.

After she left Neverland, my view changed. I still don't want to grow up, but I didn't want to stay a child. I wanted to follow Wendy no matter where she went. And then, finally, I thought I'd be ready to find her again. Earlier, when the man in the puffy suit announced her name I was shocked. I thought that the Wendy I knew had chosen to grow up. Until I saw the paintings and until I heard her tell the stories...

I wonder if she'll recognize me now?


	2. Chapter 2

_Wendy_

"More, more! Please, Auntie Wendy, please! Tell us more!" Mary pleads after I tell the third story.

Laughing, I shake my head at her which causes all of the children to groan. "It's already time for you all to get cleaned up and ready to sleep."

Little John snuggles closer, laying his head on my shoulder. "One more?"

I hug him tighter and sigh. "Maybe just one more."

"Sorry, children, but I've been sent to fetch Auntie Wendy."

I look up to see Michael leaning into the room. All the children groan and Michael laughs. "C'mon, it isn't so bad. If I take Auntie Wendy now she'll have more stories for later!" A collective shout of excitement shoots from the children.

I kiss Little John and Mary on the head and wish them goodnight. Michael closes the door behind me and leans against the wall, staring at me. We have a little stare-down before it becomes too much for me.

"What?" My voice has a hint of impatience. I prefer to stay with the children than to be surrounded by society's leeches.

My baby brother just shakes his head at me, a ghost of a grin on his face. "Nothing. You just never change, do you, Wendy?"

I frown at him. "What do you mean by that?"

Michael chuckles. "Your stories, Wendybird. You still say the same ones as always and you still tell them with the same amount of enthusiasm... like you believe them yourself."

"Oh," I respond dully. "Well, every child deserves to believe in something magical, don't you think?"

"Wendy Moira Angela Darling! Where have you been?" Shrieks my mother as she glides towards us.

"I-"

Mother wags her finger in my face. "And don't you even dare tell me you were telling stories again!" I glance away, shame causing my face to flush. "Honestly, Wendy, when are you going to stop this foolishness?"

My eyes glare at the floor. I wish a hole would just appear and swallow me right up. It's no use trying to argue or reason with Mother about it. Especially when I'm hiding from the crowds during one of her parties. She thinks arguing is childish.

"Sorry, Mother," I apologize in a small voice.

Mother gives an exhasperated sigh. "Just hurry back to the party, dear. And for goodness' sake, fix your hair!" Mother floats back to the main stairwell and back to the ball.

"Don't worry yourself, Wendybird. Mother will calm down once she sees you talking to Edward Jenkins."

"Ugh!" I groan, very unladylike. "That man is insufferable. So dull and uptight."

"Mother would just love to see you two become an item. She does love them in his brand," Michael laughs.

I glare at him. "That is a very nasty thought, Michael. Don't you dare even think it again. There is no way I could possibly stand to be stuck with a man like him. He lacks even the tiniest imagination!" I sniff. Marry him? Outrageous!

"You do realize that you're almost twenty-two, right?"

Another glare shoots its way towards my brother. "Yes, and? What are you getting at?"

Michael stares at me with a blank expression before shrugging. "Well, you can't really be picky at this point, Wendy."

I stare, shocked that my fifteen-year-old brother was the one to say this to me. Sure, random ladies have _implied_ as much, but not Michael. Mother lectures me on it and Lucy tries to set me up with men, but neither one of my brothers seemed to care. "I- what?"

Michael scuffs the toe of his shoe against the carpet. "Well, you're the oldest and John already has two children and another on the way. You haven't even been properly courted, Wendy. Soon no one will even offer, so maybe you should tone it down with the stories and grow up a bit."

Hearing this from my youngest brother, the one fresh out of childhood, stabs at the child-me I've held on to so desperately all these years. If I let myself finish growing up that would mean letting go of Peter... And I don't think I'm quite ready for that. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that. "But, Michael, I thought you liked my stories..."

"I do! Oh, Wendy, I love your stories. But.." Michael's face scrunches up like he doesn't want to say what's on his mind.

"Well? Spit it out, Michael, it's the least you could do."

"Wendy, everyone has to grow up some time. You can't keep painting fairytales and telling stories - no matter how good you are at both. You need to forget Neverland and Peter and that gang of children and knock off this rubbish. None of it is real, Wendy. You need to focus on what _is_ real and find yourself a suitor."

My eyes burn and I struggle with myself to keep from tearing up. My hands shake and I feel like sludge is lodged in my throat. "It doesn't matter if they're real or not, Michael. All that matters is that it makes others happy and it makes me happy. I would expect this coming from Mother or Father or, bloody hell, even Edward bloody Jenkins, but never would I have expected my own brother to say something like this to me." A single, traitorous tear makes a dash down my cheek. Michael's eyes widen as he takes in what I've spat at him and he sees the tear. He takes a step towards me, but I'm already rushing back towards the servants' staircase and away from him.

I reach the bottom of the stairs and stop to collect myself. My hand reaches up to erase the path the lone tear made when I realize I've left my mask in the nursery. Oh, well. Maybe I can say it was making me too hot or something. Didn't want to smudge my face-paint.

"Well, if it isn't the famous Miss Wendy Darling," a melodious voice says from my left as I sneak out of the servants' stairwell.

I jump, spinning towards it. The gentleman with the Indian mask leans casually against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "Why, sir, I find it terribly unfair that you know my name when I haven't even an inkling towards your identity." I try and cover my mood.

The man smiles, his green eyes sparkling. "How about that dance you promised me?"

My cheeks redden. "Oh-oh well, I, uh-"

A mischievious glint sparkles in his eyes through the holes of his mask. "Come now, it's not like I'm asking you to walk the plank is it?"

A nagging feeling itches in the back of my mind as he says this. Odd. "Well..." My eyes glance around the room only to land on Edward Jenkins at the exact moment he notices me. He's standing near my father, but excuses himself when he sees me. His eyes narrow suspiciously when he notices the familiar stranger beside me and he picks up his pace. Somebody doesn't like competition. I turn suddenly to the man in the Indian mask. "Sure, of course. Shall we?"

The man seems startled for a moment, but offers me his arm anyway. I take it and let him lead me towards the dance area just as the orchestra begins another song. My gaze stays just over his shoulder as I concentrate on my feet. Probably a little too much concentration, but one of the reasons I don't dance with gentlemen is because of how awful a mess I make it.

"Relax, Miss Wendy. It makes dancing easier," he chuckles.

My eyes gaze back to his face and I blush again. Will the redness ever leave? "Sorry, I'm not a very good dancer. It's partially the reason why I decline offers."

"Partially? That must mean you have other reasons, but you can tell me those later." My mysterious dance partner spins me away gently, before gracefully pulling me back. "What I really want to know," he says, spinning us effortlessly through the other dancing couples. "Is why you looked as you did when you answered the door."

I stare over his Indian mask. It covers the top half of his face, so I can only see the green of his eyes. His lips are cushioned, but not so that he appears feminine. His jaw is lean and he has tan-lines on his face as if he's always secretly laughing at some joke. Light brown hair, dirty blond in some places as if streaked by the sun, looks windblown around his head like a halo.

"I don't like parties," I reply honestly. "And I had an encounter with a rather boring fellow that wishes for my hand."

_Peter_

"I don't like parties," Wendy says with a sigh. Her innocent grey eyes sparkle at me. "And I had an encounter with a rather boring fellow that wishes for my hand."

I'm silent for a moment, remembering what I overheard in the hallway earlier. When I made myself known, I made sure to make it look like I was lounging in the ballroom. In truth, I had been up there listening to Wendy as she told three of my favorite stories, all featuring me, of course. Those have always been my favorite; ones starring me. As I stare openly at her, I notice a slight pinkness to her bottom eyelids. Was she crying? What happened to the happy Wendy I used to know? Did she really grow up?

No, my Wendy didn't really grow up, just like me. Hearing her tell those stories, it was just like when she was younger and came away to Neverland with me. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say that fellow over there is the one with which you had the encounter? He doesn't seem too pleased to see you dancing with me." I smile broadly at his obvious envy.

Wendy glances around, her head quickly whipping back so that she faces me again once she sees him. A shudder goes through her petite body. "Yes, that's him. Edward Jenkins; my parent's are just dying for me to marry him. He's the perfectly ideal husband in their eyes."

An angrily burning sensation settles in my stomach. The thought of any man with my Wendy tightens the feeling in my gut. "Is that why you were so unhappy when you opened the door?"

Wendy meets my gaze for a moment before she looks back over my shoulder, her cheeks turning pink. "Yes, it was. He thinks that because my parent's approve that I will."

That explains one time I saw her upset. "What about just now?"

A line appears between her brows and her nose scrunches a teensy amount. "Pardon me?"

"When you came back into the ballroom. You didn't look like you were very happy."

"Oh," Wendy concentrates on her steps for a moment. "I- I had a mild spat with my brother, Michael."

The song ends and I notice that Jenkins guy trying to make his way over here. I take Wendy's arm in mine and lead her in the opposite direction. She glances back, sees the stiff-looking man, and then turns around and scurries with me. I give her my trouble-making grin and we hurry out to the balcony after making sure he lost us in the crowd.

Wendy releases my arm and stands at the railing. Her eyes are trained at the stars - no. Her eyes are trained on one star in particular. The second star to the right. "What were you fighting with your brother about?" I was there, listening, but I want to know if she'll share. Maybe I can trick her into telling me a story..

Wendy sighs, but keeps her gaze on the star. "My family doesn't approve of my choices. They want me to marry already and to have a family, but that's all too much for me. I tell these stories - I always have - and my parents hate it. They want me to finish growing up, but I'm not sure that I'm ready to." Her voice takes on a tinge of sorrow that has my chest hurting.

"What kinds of stories?"

"Did you see my paintings?"

"Yes," I say. Of course, I did. They were of Neverland.

"I tell these stories, of a place that's far from here. There's a boy that they center around, a boy that never grows up."

"Never grows up, you say?"

Wendy nods. "Yes. And my family thinks it's all rubbish. They think it's all too childish, but I can't stop. I made a promise long ago that I would never forget, and I won't."

"These stories," I start. Wendy turns towards me, her face freshly blushing.

"Oh, no. You think it improper too, don't you?" Her eyes widen at me.

"No," I say simply.

Her brows furrow and she gives me a disbelieving look. Her eyes narrow a bit, as if she's wary of me. "You don't?"

I shake my head. "Who was the boy in your stories? I'd love to hear about him." I always love to hear her talk about me.

Still confused, Wendy turns her gaze back to the star. She hesitates, and I'm almost certain she isn't going to say anything at first. Sighing, her expression softens as she speaks. "His name is Peter Pan and he's a boy that refused to grow up. All of my stories are about him and his adventures. He lives in Neverland, with the pirates and the Indians - which, by the way, is one of the reasons I love your mask."

"Neverland? And how do you get to Neverland?" Wendy looks back at me, but I give her an assuring face.

She looks back at the star, pointing. "Second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning."

"Wouldn't that mean you would need to fly?" I turn Wendy gently until she's facing me.

"Well, yes," she says cautiously.

"And wouldn't that mean you needed pixie dust?"

Wendy's eyes widen and she sucks in a tiny breath. "I- well, yes, but how'd you-"

She goes silent as I reach up to untie my mask. I pull it away and set it on the railing, giving Wendy a small smile. Her eyes widen impossibly and her cheeks pale a little as she takes in my face. I know it looks a bit different, but I'm sure she recognizes me now.

"Hello, Wendy." I say softly.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Cliffhanger :D enjoy!~~~


	3. Chapter 3

_Wendy_

The song ends and my stranger leads me out to the balcony, us hurrying away from Edward Jenkins. A giddy feeling settles in my stomach as I let go of his arm and lean against the railing. My eyes, as they always do, automatically settle on the second star on the right. Second star to the right, and straight on until morning….

"What were you fighting with your brother about?" His soft voice interrupts the mesmerizing silence, but I don't mind.

I sigh, keeping my eyes on the star; the way to Neverland. The way to Peter…. "My family doesn't approve of my choices. They want me to marry already and to have a family, but that's all too much for me. I tell these stories - I always have - and my parents hate it. They want me to finish growing up, but I'm not sure that I'm ready to." My chest hurts at the mere thought of it.

"What kinds of stories?" He asks, with his voice hushed.

"Did you see my paintings?" I ask him.

"Yes," he answers. His voice makes it sound like my question was redundant.

"I tell these stories, of a place that's far from here. There's a boy that they center around, a boy that never grows up." An amazing boy… My Peter…

"Never grows up, you say?"

I nod. "Yes. And my family thinks it's all rubbish. They think it's all too childish, but I can't stop. I made a promise long ago that I would never forget, and I won't." _I won't forget you, Peter Pan._

"These stories…" He starts; his voice hesitant.

I spin to face him, my face heating up instantly. "Oh, no. You think it improper too, don't you?" My gut clenches.

"No," he says simply.

I stare, incredulous. My brows furrow; why doesn't he? My eyes narrow only a fraction. "You don't?"

My stranger shakes his head at me. "Who was the boy in your stories? I'd love to hear about him." A ghost of a grin covers his lips.

Still confused, I turn my gaze back to the star. I take a breath, not sure if I will tell. I say to him, "His name is Peter Pan and he's a boy that refused to grow up. All of my stories are about him and his adventures. He lives in Neverland, with the pirates and the Indians - which, by the way, is one of the reasons I love your mask."

"Neverland? And how do you get to Neverland?" He asks. I stare at him for a moment, trying to see if he's making fun at me.

Something in his face assures me and I find myself telling him, "Second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning." I raise my right hand and point it out.

My stranger grasps my arm gently and turns me towards him. "Wouldn't that mean you would need to fly?"

"Well, yes," I respond cautiously.

"And wouldn't that mean you needed pixie dust?"

I suck in a breath, or try to (damned corset), and my eyes widen. My heart starts to beat twice as fast as should be healthy for a young woman. "I- well, yes, but how'd you-"

I stop trying to choke out words when his arms reach up around his head. He keeps his gaze away from me as he pulls his mask from his face. His green eyes sparkle when they meet mine after he sets his mask on the railing of the balcony. A small smile tweaks at his mouth as I feel tingles shooting through my body. My knees feel weak and my heart beats even faster. I feel the color drain from my face – in a good way.

"Hello, Wendy," Peter says.

My throat abruptly feels like I swallowed an apple core. Suddenly, I'm looking at the world through tears as I try to hold them in. Peter! My mysterious stranger was none other than my Peter Pan, the boy that never wanted to grow up.

Wait…

"Come on, Wendy, say something," Peter chuckles. I feel like my body's been frozen solid. Peter tries to keep his grin, but it soon slips from his face as I remain silent. "Wendy?" He reaches his hand to grab my own.

Suddenly, I find I can move my arms again. Quickly, I reach my hand up to swipe the few tears that escaped in my shock-induced paralysis, nonchalantly keeping him from touching me. "Sorry, sorry. P-Peter? You – you look so –"

"Devilishly handsome?" His eyes twinkle at me and he winks, his cocky smile back.

"Grown up," I choke out. My voice is barely above a whisper. Peter Pan, the boy that never wanted to grow up, grown into a ravishing man.

A frown grows between his eyes. "No, Wendy, I didn't grow up. I'm still me, still the Peter you knew. I just look a little different is all."

I give a dry laugh. "Oh, is that all?" Disappointment floods my veins mixed with a hint of betrayal. Peter was supposed to stay young forever, not grow up like I had to. The betrayal stings through my cells. Peter Pan, all grown up. "Wait, Peter, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I-"

"WENDY!"

Peter and I spin around at the sound of my father's bellow. The color leaves my face again, but not in the semi-possibly-good way it did for Peter. Terror fills me to the brim and I barely suppress a squeak. Peter glances at my face before taking a step in front of me, almost shielding me. Like anything could shield me from the wrath of Mr. Darling.

"Your mother is in there speaking to _your_ guests! What in the world are you doing out here?" My father's eyes land on Peter. "And who the bloody hell are you?"

Peter nods his head towards him. "My name is Peter, sir. A pleasure," he introduces himself and offers his hand to my father.

Father takes it hesitantly. "Yes, sure, a pleasure. What are you two…" His eyes suddenly light up as my skin blushes. Happiness practically oozes from the man as he misunderstands. "Oh, bother, pardon my intrusion. Go back to your conversing, children." He practically skips back to the party. Off to tell Mother that I have a suitor, no doubt.

But I don't have a suitor. This is Peter, my Peter Pan. The boy that I thought had forgotten me with his many adventures. The boy that was never supposed to grow up. Frowning, I turn back to Peter.

"I should go back to the party now, Peter," I lie.

"Then I shall join you, Wendy," Peter says. Warmth spreads through my gut at the sound of my name on his lips, but I shake my head.

"No, that's quite alright. I- I need to go be a hostess or something."

I turn and begin walking away. It feels like my legs are made of pure lead. They grow heavier and heavier with each step away from Peter. Maybe tomorrow, after he is gone again, I'll go back to talking myself out of him even existing. Peter will be a dream.

"Tink, no, don't!" I hear Peter shout.

Confused, I turn back to him. When I open my mouth to ask him what on earth he's shouting a loud "Ouch!" escapes instead. A fluttering sound reaches my ears as a sharp tugging erupts on my scalp. My hands reach up to swat away whatever might have a hold of my hair and Peter erupts in laughter. "Get it off! What the bloody hell is it?! Ah! Is it a bat?!" I spin around, swatting, and try to get it to release my long locks.

"Tink, she's had enough. Be polite!" Peter barely breathes out between laughs.

"Tink? Who- wait, Tink as in Tinkerbell?" I stop spinning and stare at Peter. Something in my face has him sobering up as he nods. A faint jingling sounds as a tiny fairy floats in front of my face. "Oh," I gasp.

Peter's face scrunches up at the look of awe on my face. "What's the matter, Wendy? Don't you remember good ol' Tink?"

A sigh slips through my lips as Tinkerbell floats and lands on my outstretched hand. Her eyes flitter back and forth between Peter and me. Tink jingles something to Peter that deepens his frown.

"No way, she wouldn't forget us. Right, Wendy?"

The hope and absolute trust in his eyes brings a pang to my chest. "Of course I remember you all, Peter. It's just…"

"It's just what, Wendy? I told you I'd be back." Peter comes closer to me, so close we're almost touching. My eyes are level with his shoulders, so I tilt my head back to look at his face. Tinkerbell flies off of my hand and circles us. Peter's hand reaches up and brushes a strand of hair from my face. It feels like a thousand butterflies brushed up against my cheek. His voice is hushed, gentle, as he says, "I've come back for you, Wendy. Come away with me."

My heart feels like it dropped down low, somewhere near my feet. My stomach clenches and I feel my throat close up. Tears swell in my eyes and I tilt my head down to look at Peter's chest. "I can't," I whisper.

Peter goes still. A tense moment passes and my heart squeezes until I'm sure it's going to break. He takes a slight step away from me. "Why not? Am I too late? Did you grow up?" The hurt in his voice is almost palpable.

I shake my head as I answer him in a broken voice, "It's been nine years, Peter, and I've forgotten how to fly."

"I can teach you," Peter says, confidence back in his voice. His eyes aren't as sure.

"What about my family and life, Peter? I can't just run away, not this time." _Why are you saying this, Wendy? He came back! He wants you to go back to Neverland, the place you've longed to be for so long!_ The voice inside my head says. Why _am_ I saying these things? I want nothing more than to go away with Peter. What's stopping me this time?

"I," Peter swallows audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I understand."

Tink jingles quickly to Peter just as the grandfather clock starts to strike 11. Peter glances quickly at the clock and then up to the star. A panicked look crosses his face as he nods to Tinkerbell. He turns towards the railing, jumping up onto it. The tears I was holding back start racing each other down my cheeks as I realize I've run out of time.

His feet start to lift off the railing and he doesn't look back. I rush to the banister just as he takes off screaming, "Peter!"

Peter stops his ascent, turning back towards me with a carefully blank face. "Yes?"

The clock rings a final time and applause can be heard from the ballroom. They must've had the toast in my honor; the party's at an end. Silence spreads quickly again as I suck in a breath.

"Take me with you, Peter; take me to Neverland."


	4. Chapter 4

_Wendy_

I stare at Peter as he sits on the railing, watching as what I've said sinks in. My heart squeezes as I wait for his reaction. I close my eyes as Peter studies me, comprehension dawning on his face. The door leading from the ballroom opens again and I hear John call my name. My eyes fly open. Peter keeps his curiously-shocked expression as my brother walks up.

"Wendy? The party's over and Mary and John wish you to see them off," John says, openly staring at Peter.

Peter's studious gaze switches to John. Sadness washes over his face. "John, right?" he asks, offering his hand to my brother for a shake.

John takes it, his businessman's smile at the ready. "Yes, that's me. Father mentioned that there was a gentleman out here with my sister. Unfortunately, my father is terrible with names so forgive me asking again."

"I'm Peter," he says to my oblivious brother.

For a moment – a brief, brief moment – something akin to recollection crosses my brother's face. "May I ask your surname?"

My heart flutters as Peter gives a small, sad grin. "It's Pan, Peter Pan."

My brother's eyes widen for a short second before he chuckles. "My sister has been telling you her silly nonsense, I wager. Good one, chap."

I find myself gritting my teeth to keep from shouting at him. How can eh so readily and completely forget Peter? John was every bit as awake as I was when Peter whisked us away to Neverland. He wanted to stay just as much as I had. The fact that he called that which I love silly nonsense doesn't bother me anymore, though. My family turned against me long ago.

"Wendy? Are you even awake in that imaginative head of yours?" I hear my brother question me.

"I'm awake, John," I practically bark at him.

John chuckles good-naturedly. "She's always grumpy at these parties. Absolutely hates them, she does." Peter chuckles with John until John says, "She especially hates that Mother and Father use these get-togethers as an excuse to push suitors at poor Wendy."

Peter's face goes carefully blank, but not before I glimpsed his scowl. Curious. John asks me again if I'll say goodbye to his children as Peter and I are having a stare down.

"Yes," I mumble as Peter gives me a small nod. John says goodbye to Peter and heads back to the house, waiting at the door for me.

"Leave your bedroom window open, Wendy," Peter says quietly.

"I've never closed it, Peter," I say, giving him a small nod. I gather my skirts and head after John without looking back at Peter. It feels like an army of fairies are flying around in my stomach. A few party stragglers pepper the room as my brother and I pass in to the hallway. His darling little Darlings are standing beside Lucy, looking as if their almost asleep while standing. I pick little John up as he reaches for me and Mary clings to my skirts. John takes Lucy to get the car as I stay with my little ones.

Kneeling onto the floor, I pull both children in for a giant hug. "I need you two to listen carefully to what I'm about to say."

Mary pulls back and tears are in her eyes. "We already know, Auntie Wendy. The fairy came to see us."

I wipe her tears gently with the back of my hand and hold her cheek in my palm. "Don't cry, my Mary, please."

Sniffling, she says, "Sorry, Auntie Wendy, we should be happy. You're going to be with your Peter Pan, aren't you? And the mermaids and the fairies, too?"

I give a sad laugh. "Yes, with Peter and the mermaids and the fairies. I so do not wish to leave you, dear ones." I hug them back to me, tighter than before.

"Visit with Tink, Wendybird," John whispers to me.

"I want to meet Peter, Auntie Wendy!" Mary whisper-shouts.

I give a water laugh as they give me a kiss. "I'll see you again, dear ones. I love you," I coo.

They chorus their love back to me, making sure to not say good-bye. John comes in and collects them after hugging me and gifting my forehead with a soft kiss. He must have seen my sad eyes. Sighing, I straighten my skirts and head towards the staircase. These parties tire me out easily.

"Goodness, Wendybird, you look like you'll never see them again," Michael remarks from the bottom of the stairwell.

I give him a half-hearted shrug and go to move around him, but am stopped by his slender fingers encircling my wrist almost painfully. My brow furrows. "Michael? Michael, let go of my hand; I'm tired." My brother ignores me and starts to pull me towards the gallery. My paintings of Neverland surround us as Michael brings us to a stop in the middle. "Michael?"

"You need to be more obedient, Wendy," Michael tells me. His grip on my arm tightens and pain throbs through my arm. "What do you think you're doing, Wendybird?"

"Michael, you're hurting me," I whimper.

He looks down at my wrist, trapped by his hand. Shock flashes through him and he let's go. "Sorry, Wendybird. I – I just overheard you…"

"Overheard what, Michael?" I rub my wrist gently.

"You can't leave me, Wendy. I won't let you run off with some suitor." Michael says with tears in his eyes. "Pick that Jenkins fellow if you decide to finally marry, but don't leave me."

I glare at the floor and stand there, awkwardly silent, as my brother calms down. There is no way I am going to correct him; that I'm running off to Neverland and not getting married. He'd have Mother and Father lock me away. Peter wouldn't have a chance at finding me.

"Who's going to tell me stories? Who am I going to meet that would keep me from being a stiff? Wendy, please, don't go. I'm sorry about what I said earlier. You don't have to grow up, but please don't leave me." My brother sobs, letting his tears fall.

My heart aches for my little brother. "I'm sorry, Michael. Truly, I am so, very sorry."

"I've run you off!" He croaks. "I knew it; you're leaving because of me. I don't want you to leave…"

"Michael I'm not-"

"No! Do not lie to me! I heard you tell that fellow you'd go away with him. You've never thought of anyone else, have you? Always staying in your dreamland and tarnishing Mummy and Father's reputation. You can't even act happy when they throw you a ball. Why can't you do what social status dictates for once, Wendy?" Michael shouts; his sorrow turning to anger.

Tears fill my eyes and I swipe away the few that escape. "Do I embarrass you that much, Michael?" His mouth opens to release his protest – regret at his words clear on his face – but I hold my hand up to stop him. "I'm sorry; you won't have to worry about it anymore, Michael. I'm going to bed. Goodnight, dear Michael."

I hear a thud as I turn away. I assume Michael just punched the wall, so I continue to my bedroom. My heart hurts. I'm not only thinking of myself am I? I definitely wasn't thinking of myself when I left Neverland the first time; thoughts of Mother and Father kept me from staying. Oh, Michael…

_Peter_

Wendy goes still, very still, for a moment. Her soft grey eyes go wide, wider than you'd think possible. "Come on, Wendy, say something," I chuckle. I feel my grin start to slip. Why is she being so quiet? "Wendy?" I ask, reaching my hand out to grab hers.

Her hand flinches right before I can grab it and she moves it to swipe a few tears that escaped. I hadn't even noticed she was crying. A pang of disappointment shoots through me; she doesn't want me to touch her?

"Sorry, sorry. P-Peter? You – you look so –"

I interrupt her with what the mermaids say is my cockiest smile and a wink. "Devilishly handsome?"

"Grown up," She croaks. Her voice is barely above a whisper.

Shock courses through my body. Grown up? Never! I feel my brows crease. "No, Wendy, I didn't grow up. I'm still me, still the Peter you knew. I just look a little different is all."

Wendy offers me a dry laugh. "Oh, is that all?" Her own face is a mask of confusion and – and disappointment? "Wait, Peter, what are you doing here?" She asks, her sweet voice as soft as if she were about to tell a story. I love hearing that voice.

"Well, I –" I start to tell her why when :

"WENDY!" Comes a shout from the other side of the balcony.

Wendy and I both turn quickly towards the sound of a brooding man. He was probably handsome – not as handsome as me, of course – when he was younger, but you can only see hints of it now. My eyes flit towards Wendy's face just in time to see the color leave her beautiful face. She makes an adorable sound, but I recognize it as a squeak. Is this man a threat to my Wendy? I take a step slightly in front of her petite frame – just in case.

"Your mother is in there speaking to _your_ guests! What in the world are you doing out here?" The man states, his face turning red and his gaze glazing onto my face. "And who the bloody hell are you?

Nodding, I offer him my hand to shake. "My name is Peter, sir. A pleasure," I lie. It isn't a pleasure at all.

Hesitantly, her father – as I assume he is – takes my hand in his. His grip is sweaty, I don't like it. "Yes, sure, a pleasure. What are you two…" His eyes suddenly light up. He's suddenly a very, very happy man. Strange. "Oh, bother, pardon my intrusion. Go back to your conversing, children." Mr. Darling practically skips back to the party. What an odd man.

Wendy turns to me, the remains of a blush fresh on her face. Even with her slight frown, Wendy is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. "I should go back to the party now, Peter." She says.

Warmth spreads through me and I feel like flying in circles at the sound of my name on her lips. "Then I shall join you, Wendy," I respond.

She shakes her head at me. "No, that's quite alright. I – I need to go be a hostess or something."

Wendy turns before she can see my face fall. My heart starts hammering quickly; she's walking away. I can't let her walk away! Before I can reach out I see a little ball of shimmering light whizz past my head. "Tink, no, don't!" I shout, but I'm too late.

Wendy turns back to me, confused, a half second before Tinkerbell starts tugging on a strand of hair. Wendy reaches a hand up to swat at her, obviously not realizing what's going on. I cannot stop my laughter as she starts to spin around. "Get it off! What the bloody hell is it?! Ah! Is it a bat?!"

"Tink, she's had enough. Be polite!" I gasp out between laughs.

"Tink? Who – wait, Tink as in Tinkerbell?" Wendy asks, stopping her rotations and staring right at me. Her face looks so disbelieving it has my laughter choking in my chest. All chuckles disappear.

_Still the same ol' reaction when something touches her precious hair, eh?_ Chuckles Tink naughtily. Silly jealous fairy.

"Oh," she gasps. Wendy holds out a hand and Tink and the fairy lands gracefully onto it. Tink's gaze flitters between Wendy and me.

_She forgot me?_ Tink jingles at me.

My frown deepens. "No way, she wouldn't forget us. Right, Wendy?"

"Of course I remember you all, Peter. It's just…"

"It's just what, Wendy? I told you I'd be back." I walk closer to Wendy, so close we're almost touching. She has to tilt her head back to look at my face. Tinkerbell flits up and circles us, so as not to be in the way. I reach my hand and brush a strand of hair away from Wendy's face. Her beautiful, beautiful face. My voice comes out hushed, "I've come back for you, Wendy. Come away with me."

I don't know what I expected when I asked her, but tears were not what I expected. Did I misinterpret the paintings? What about the storytelling? I was almost expecting her to jump into my arms and we'd fly away right then…

I also didn't expect the words that came out of her mouth.

"I can't," she whispers, her eyes trained on my chest.

My entire body goes still. Pain shoots through my heart. I take a small step back, away from my Wendy. "Why not? Am I too late? Did you grow up?" The hurt in my voice is thick, but I cannot mask it.

Wendy shakes her head, her voice broken as she tells me, "It's been nine years, Peter, and I've forgotten how to fly."

Is that all? "I can teach you," I boast. I did it once before, didn't I?

"What about my family and life, Peter? I can't just run away, not this time."

"I," my throat feels thick so I force myself to swallow. The gulp was like thunder in my ears. "I understand," I lie. Well, I guess it isn't a lie. I do understand; my Wendy is so unselfish. She always puts herself before anyone else. Isn't this the same reason that she said when she came back last time?

_She said no, Peter._ Tink tells me. Even her voice is sad. No matter how jealous she gets sometimes, Tink has always loved Wendy, too. _We should just go; I don't want you to hurt more._

A clock somewhere starts to strike the hour 11. My eyes burn into the clock and switch to the star; the star I was hoping to take Wendy back to… Panic courses through me. I really do have to leave her… Nodding to Tink, I jump up onto the railing. It takes a second for my happy thoughts to come back, but I'm Peter Pan. The boy that flies.

I refuse to look back at Wendy, knowing that if I did right now I would want to stay even if it meant growing up.

"Peter!" Wendy's voice screams at me.

I school my features into a blank face, and try to turn off my heart. Turning towards her I ask, "Yes?"

The clock rings it's final time and applause can be heard from the ballroom. Silence spreads quickly and Wendy sucks in a deep breath. Her face is wet with tears and I just want to hold her in my arms… No, Peter, she said no. Don't torment yourself.

Wendy's eyes pierce my own gaze as she tells me what she wanted to;

"Take me with you, Peter; take me to Neverland."

What? Did she just – she did! Sitting on the railing, Wendy and I stare at each other until Wendy closes her eyes. The door to the balcony opens again and I hear a man's voice call for Wendy, but I'm too shocked to move my eyes from her face.

"Wendy? The party's over and Mary and John wish you to see them off," he says, staring openly at me.

My studious gaze switches to him. Oh, no. Sadness washes through me. "John, right?" I ask, offering my hand to him.

John takes it, a sophisticated aura about him. "Yes, that's me. Father mentioned that there was a gentleman out here with my sister. Unfortunately, my father is terrible with names so forgive me asking again."

"I'm Peter."

There's a moment, a small moment, when I think John almost remembers me. But no one remembers me in the long run. Except for my Wendy…

"May I ask your surname?" John asks in his most adult tone.

I give him a small, sad grin; knowing what his reaction will be. "It's Pan; Peter Pan."

John's eyes widen for a short second before he chuckles. "My sister's been telling you her silly nonsense, I wager. Good one, chap."

Wendy's face flushes, but not from embarrassment this time. Her jaw goes tense as if she's angry. Why would she be angry? I can accept that he's forgotten me; all of the Lost Boys forgot me as well. Even little Michael won't believe in me anymore. No one remembers me once they've left Neverland – no one, but Wendy.

"Wendy? Are you even awake in that imaginative head of yours?" John questions her.

"I'm awake, John," Wendy practically growls at him.

But John chuckles good-naturedly. "She's always grumpy at these parties. Absolutely hates them, she does." I chuckle with him until I hear, "She especially hates that Mother and Father use these get-togethers as an excuse to push suitors at poor Wendy."

I have to force my face to let go of my scowl. No one is allowed to have my Wendy – no one but me, of course. John asks Wendy again if she will say goodbye to his… children as Wendy and I lock gazes.

I give her a nod, letting her know I understand. Vaguely, I recall John telling me goodbye and going to wait for Wendy by the door.

"Leave your bedroom window open, Wendy," I tell her quietly.

"I've never closed it, Peter," Wendy says, giving me a small nod. My heart swells at her words as she gathers her skirts and heads after her brother without looking back at me.

Jumping from the balcony, I rush up to settle myself on her rooftop, right about her window. I'll let her say her goodbyes and then I'll teach her how to fly. I'll have my Wendy back.

A/N: Sorry, I meant to have this up sooner. I injured my shoulder when I was riding my horse a couple weeks back and the ER said my clavicle separated from my scapula. Ouch! But- Thank you guys for reading! I love ALL of the reviews (: You guys have kept me writing! Exams finished last week, and this week is Fall Break. Know what that means?! Yep! I plan to have the next chapter up by Tuesday or Wednesday. Depending on how my doctor's appointment goes, it might be Thursday. But I will have it up; I promise!

P.S.~ If I didn't reply to your review; sorry! I usually try to send a message back (: Don't be afraid to message me or anything! I love hearing from people!

-Eathelynn (: 3


	5. Chapter 5

_Wendy_

I straighten up, popping the kinks in my back from being bent over for so long. A gentle breeze blows into my room from my open window. I've been packing for the better half of the last one-and-a-half-hours. My head aches and the raging migraine ceases to relent. I pick up the large duffel I had been leant over while packing and set it on the little reading ledge beneath my window. A soft sigh leaves me as I search the cloudy night sky for any sign of Peter, but it is far too dark and overcast for me to see anything. The clouds came out of nowhere after my spat with Michael.

Michael…

Before I can actually register what I'm doing, I find myself sneaking out of my room and down the hall to Michael's room. The door is silent as I scurry into the room. My eyes fall on Michael's sleeping frame as soon as I'm sure the door is closed behind me. Kneeling beside his bed, I run my fingers through his hair which still feels as soft as a small child's.

"I don't want to go home," Michael whispers in his sleep. I keep playing with his hair hoping that it will keep him in whatever dream he's in.

"I want to stay in Neverland this time, Wendybird. I don't want to grow up," he whimpers.

My hand stops in its tracks. Michael shifts and stirs. His eyes flutter open and he gazes at me without really seeing. I go back to combing his hair with my fingers and offering soothing noises.

"I'm sorry, Wendy," My youngest brother sighs. "I've run you off, I now it. I can almost feel your absence."

"Shh," I sooth him. "I'm not going to be gone forever."

Michael's eyes close again. "But you won't be here…"

"Oh, Michael," I whimper. I sit on his bed and lay his head in my lap. Leaning over, I kiss his forehead and whisper in his ear. "You know that place between sleep and awake?"

"Mhmm," Michael mumbles in agreement.

"Well, that's where I will always be waiting; that's where I will always love you, my dearest Michael," I tell him softly. A small smile grows on his face and he slips back into a deep sleep.

I kiss his head as I gently ease away. He looks so much younger when he's asleep. My fingers trail the walls as I slip back into my room. I gently ease the door shut, ever so slowly.

"Wendy," a voice says just as the door clicks shut.

My hand soars up to cover my mouth as I spin around with a breathy yelp. Peter gives me an impish grin, taking delight in giving me a fright.

"Peter, that wasn't funny," I scold him in a loud whisper.

"You're right," Peter says with a straight face. A large smile then envelopes his face. "It was hilarious."

I roll my eyes and sit on the reading ledge beneath my window, which I now notice is shut. Peter turns to face me and sits Indian-style on the floor – now only in dark pants and a white, short-sleeved, button-up top. His feet, I notice, are bare. Maybe he's still the same after all.

Peter openly stares at me as he takes in my own outfit. I'm in a soft blue, light dress that has a tan belt cinching it to my waist. My hair is over my shoulder, now in a very long braid. Soft, leather and cloth sandals cover my feet. All traces of make-up are now gone.

"You look so different," Peter says in a voice that is barely above a whisper.

I only nod my head, though I wish to tell him the same. I find myself wishing to know how it happened; how Peter Pan the Boy turned into Peter Pan the Man.

"Shall we?" He asks. He stands up and offers me his arm.

I fiddle with my braid and glance at the floor; I am unable to meet his eyes. "I – I don't know if I can." Sneaking a peak, I watch as his face falls. He looks crushed. Then I realize what I've just said. "No! Oh, no, that didn't come out like it was supposed to; it's not how I meant it."

Peter's brow furrows. "Then what exactly did you mean?"

"Fly, Peter, I don't remember how to fly," I say miserably.

Peter's expression returns to one of blissful mischief. "That's easily fixed. You only need faith, trust, and pixie dust. I know you already have happy thoughts; you're in the presence of me." He says, smirking.

Rolling my eyes, I sigh. "I don't think it will work, Peter. I may not have let myself grow up all the way, but that doesn't mean I stayed being a child. I don't have that blissful ignorance anymore. What if I can't do it?" Tears suddenly try to fall.

"I'll catch you," he says simply; am unreadable expression is on his face. "Jump and if you fall instead of fly I will catch you." Warmth spreads through my body, planted by the heat in Peter's eyes. "I will always catch you, Wendy."

Biting my lip, I nod and look out the window. Hearing those words put a fuzzy feeling in my abdomen. Heat crawls up my neck and rises to my cheeks. I glance back up at Peter and he holds his hand out to me. Taking a deep breath, I place my small hand into his larger one. My hand seems to fit almost perfectly in his.

"Tink, do your best," Peter calls out as he pulls me to my feet. Tinkerbell flitters around us, powdering us all over in dust. Peter opens my window and places my duffel bag over his shoulder so it rests on his hip. "Ready, Wendy?"

Gulping, I stare out onto the street, several stories down. "As long as you're here to catch me I'll always be ready, Peter," I whisper.

Peter helps me up onto the window ledge. My head feels light as I try to keep from looking down. I feel Peter stand up on the reading bench behind me. My stomach is knots as I take a deep breath. And finally, with an encouraging word from Peter….

I jump.

_Peter_

My heart lifts, releasing the tension it held, as I hear Wendy utter the very words I first told her. The tension had coiled like a bad storm in my heart as I heard her and her brother speak. Although Michael is almost asleep and almost awake, I know he'll remember it. The same thing happened between Wendy and me so many years ago.

And she remembers…

I head to her room as she starts to sneak back out of Michael's. Sliding in, I close the window behind me.

Paintings crowd each other on most of her walls. Books blanket the rest. It's like a carefully made sanctuary dedicated to her imagination – and I love it.

Wendy quietly sneaks into the room, her attention solely focused on keeping her door silent. A mischievous idea pops into my head. "Wendy," I say softly – part in prank and part just because I love to say her name.

A breathy sound escapes her perfect lips and she spins around and covers her mouth. I feel a grin glue itself to my face. She's so adorable when scared, and I'm the best prankster in the world!

"Peter, that wasn't funny!" She scolds almost silently.

"You're right," I tell her. I try to keep my face serious, but a smile quickly manifests. "It was hilarious."

Wendy rolls her eyes and sits on a bench underneath her window. I sit cross-legged on the floor facing her. Her hair, as long as the mermaids' in the lagoon, is carefully plaited and pulled over her shoulder. Her dress is light blue and the material makes her grey eyes shine. And her shoes are almost perfect for an adventure. Her face isn't as soft as it used to be, and her body has more curves. I think I like them.

"You look so different," I mutter. She does. She looks so, so different, and yet the same.

Wendy only nods her head. A distracted look passes over her face.

"Shall we?" I ask while standing and offering her my hand.

She starts to play with her hair and refuses to meet my gaze. "I – I don't know if I can."

Disappointment floods through me. Of course she would choose her family over me; I saw how she could barely step away from Michael. She's always been so selfless. It's probably one of the reasons I love her…

"No!" Wendy exclaims, shock in her expression. "Oh, no, that didn't come out like it was supposed to; it's not how I meant it."

My brow furrows as I struggle to beat my hope back down. "Then what exactly did you mean?"

"Fly, Peter, I don't remember how to fly," She says miserably.

Relief quickly replaces the disappointment and I quit fighting my hope. "That's easily fixed. You only need faith, trust, and pixie dust. I know you already have happy thoughts; you're in the presence of me." I say, smirking. Silly Wendy, I thought she remembered everything?

Rolling her eyes, Wendy sighs. "I don't think it will work, Peter. I may not have let myself grow up all the way, but that doesn't mean I stayed being a child. I don't have that blissful ignorance anymore. What if I can't do it?" Suddenly, tears cloud her eyes.

"I'll catch you," I say simply. Doesn't she realize this already? "Jump and if you fall instead of fly I will catch you." I stare into Wendy's eyes, hoping what I say goes straight through. "I will always catch you, Wendy."

Wendy bites her lip and stares out of the glass. Her skin flushes a delicious red blush as she glances back up to me. I hold my hand out again and wait for her to take it. Her small frame shifts as she takes a large breath and slips her own hand into mine. My hand almost completely envelopes her own. Her hand seems to fit almost perfectly in mine.

"Tink, do your best," I call out as I pull Wendy to her feet. Tinkerbell flitters around us, powdering us all over in dust. Opening her window, I place her bag over my shoulder so it rest on my hip and leaves enough room for me to maneuver. "Ready, Wendy?"

She looks nervous as she stares out at the view. "As long as you're here to catch me I'll always be ready, Peter," Wendy whispers.

Feeling even more amazing, I help Wendy up onto the window ledge. I stand just behind her on the bench, ready to go after her. Her body quivers a little as she takes a deep breath, so I offer an encouraging word.

And she jumps.

~~~A/N~~~~

I'm so sorry that this was later than I originally planned. Life got in the way ): booooo. Thanks so much for the feedback I've been getting! I love it! Sorry for the cliffhanger (; I couldn't resist.

Love you guys!

-Eattie


	6. Chapter 6

_Wendy-_

It was impossible to tell if the screaming in my ears was the wind rushing swiftly passed or my own voice. But I wasn't screaming, was I?

Suddenly, as the ground keeps rushing up at me, arms encircle my waist in a protective grip and it's like my vision turns on reverse. Instead of continuing towards my face, the cement starts to become farther and farther away from me. Soon, I can see all of the estates and buggies as if they were a child's map.

Peter shifts me into a better position, bridal style, with my head resting comfortably on his - rather muscular - chest. I sigh, not in disappointment -because I expected to fall, and grip onto Peter's shirt.

"It's alright, Wendy, you'll learn again," Peter offers. His chest rumbles as he talks and I feel it against my cheek. It's a strange feeling, but extremely comforting.

I hum neutrally so that he doesn't know just how much I disagree with his statement. I doubt I'll ever be able to fly again...

The lights of London slowly start to get smaller and smaller as the stars in the sky seem to get brighter and brighter. It's like they're reversing; the lights of the streets are the new stars and the stars are my new street lights. Peter's grip on me tightens as the wind starts to whip around us faster. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold on to Peter, even as he shouts ecstatically.

"Wendy, we're here," Peter whispers, his lips close to my ear.

My eyes flutter open to a sight I'd bet a thousand tons of pixie dust is more beautiful than heaven. Neverland.

_Peter-_

I shoot up into the air as soon as Wendy jumps off the sill. Twirling and whirling, I rise up and up. Laughter bursts from me like one of Hook's silly cannons. "Isn't it just as fun as you remember, Wendy?"

A shrill sound rockets out of no where and my eyes immediately turn down to where Wendy was supposed to be. My periphery roams and suddenly I'm diving faster than ever towards the cement. Wendy's small form free-falls at a sickening pace and my heart clenches before my confidence boosts. Of course, I'll catch her: I'm Peter Pan.

My arms cocoon around her and I pull her close. Her own arms reach around and cling to my neck. "It's alright, Wendy, you'll learn again," I murmur.

Wendy makes a noise in agreement and snuggles more into my embrace as the boring world of adults swiftly disappears below us. The stars wink back at me, knowing my mischievious ways as we come closer and closer to our destination. The exhileration of being so close, so near to my Never Neverland zings through me.

We pass through and suddenly: We're home.

I crow in greeting, imagining that my dear home crows back. Glancing down at the lovely Wendybird in my arms, I whisper in her ears, "Wendy, we're here."

Her eyes flutter open and my heart thumps erratically at how her eyes shine for my home.

For Neverland.

*A/N: First off, I want to apologise for two very atrocious things. 1- I took so long in updating :( and 2- It's so short. Things have been pretty bad at my house and with senior year and my boyfriend now being my ex-boyfriend and I've just not been chipper enough to write a Wendy/Peter moment correctly and I didn't want to mess it up. I'm sorry this is so short. Also, I love you guys. I love the reviews I get from you all. You're perfect 3 thanks for sticking with me guys, I'm really trying to get the groove back. I don't really know where I see this going, but I know it's going somewhere good. It might take a turn from any Peter Pan and Wendy story you might've imagined, but I promise it will stay as true to them as I can make it. I'm back and your reviews helped me get this bit down. Love to you all!

-Eattie

p.s. - I had to drink a lot of Dr. Pepper and eat a LOT of Hot and Spicy Cheeze-its. Thank the people that made them 3


	7. Chapter 7

_Wendy-_

Peter lands gently on the sands of the Mermaid Lagoon, with not a mermaid in sight. A little disappointing, but there will be plenty of time for scary mermaids later. Peter sets me down and adjusts my bag on his shoulder. Not that I notice it too much; I'm too busy staring around me.

It's all the same Neverland, but it looks so... different.

"Peter..." I whisper. My eyes dart around me, looking towards the jungle - or what should be a jungle. The trees are green, but seem less extraordinary than they were. There didn't seem to be any of the colorful year-long flowers around. And where were those pesky mermaids? They should at least be trying to drown me or something...

"Not as you remembered?" Peter offers, his face as blank as a new sheet of paper.

"Where's the color? The adversity? Peter.. what happened here?"

He shrugs, tossing my things down as he flits up into a dying tree. He loops his legs over a none-too-sturdy branch and hangs upside down, swinging lazily to and fro. "Everything just stopped being as it should after you left here. It doesn't matter why; I'm just happy it's stopped dimming down. It's almost... boring." Peter emphasized his point by yawning.

I reach a hand down and feel the cool water flowing through my fingers. "What of the mermaids? Where are they?"

"Dunno. They just stopped popping up suddenly. Not that it's a big loss, mind you."

My chest feels heavy and my heart feels hollow as it beats in my chest. "What else has changed? The Indians? Pirates? The fairies? Peter," I turn away, suddenly feeling the chill in the air seep into my very soul and stare out into the sea. "Where's the life gone?"

"Oh, the pirates are out sailing somewhere, I'm sure. I see them occasionally. The Indians are very secluded now, I don't see them much. And I _think_ the fairies are still in their hollow, but I'm not very sure at all."

Peter's monotone voice cuts through me like a knife. What's happened? I thought things never changed in Never-Neverland. I thought adventure and fun were in abundance. Unless its because...

"People stopped believing. They stopped caring. Oh, Peter, the imagination is gone."

Peter looks at me with sad eyes as he hops back down to the ground. "At least you believe, Wendy. I don't think I would've made it without you." He looks down at his hands, opening and closing them into fists. "It was after you left when I started noticing the changes, and not just the ones in the land. I started... thinking of things I wouldn't normally. I started... growing up. I almost let myself go completely - once. But all it took," His eyes, twinkling again, stare into mine. "All it took, was my confidence in you. I knew you wouldn't forget; knew that no matter what you would still believe. And I was right, Wendybird. You did." Peter's voice trails off in a whisper.

Tears sting at my eyes and a lump claws its way up my throat, but Peter finds his voice again. "No one tells their children about Neverland anymore, and those children that used to know don't believe anymore - or they don't remember." He meets my gaze again. "Just like your brothers, Wendy."

The tears trickle down my face and suddenly Peter is wrapping me in his arms. I don't let more than a few tears slip by and I hold back my sobs. I'll mourn the loss of childhood dreams and imagination later. My own arms circle around Peter's waist and I hold on for what seems like forever. For now, I'll be with Peter. Together we'll keep each other young and we won't ever grow up.

And later, after I come up with an impossibly brilliant plan, Peter and I will save Neverland. If not... We'll cross that bridge when we get there.

I dry my eyes and look up at Peter. "Take me to the fairies," I ask.

Peter smiles as if it's Christmas morning and we head off into the jungle on foot.

*A/N: I know it's another one that's pretty short, but I had a sudden spurt and I used it. Hopefully if they keep coming this quickly, I'll still be able to continue even if they are short. I have a few essays and tests coming up so I went ahead and posted even though it _is_ short. I love you guys 3 And whoever signed in as BookCraze and left a review as a guest... Wow. I couldn't reply there so I'm replying here. I'm touched that you feel that way and so strongly. Honestly, your review is the reason I could write this little bit. YOU inspired ME. Thank you 3

-Eattie

P.S. - You ALL inspire me 3


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